


Fleet Resurrection

by lears_daughter



Category: Battlestar Galactica 2003
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-25
Updated: 2010-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:26:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lears_daughter/pseuds/lears_daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Takes place pre-mini and during Resurrection Ship. What if Starbuck had joined the Pegasus' pilots before the end of the worlds?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleet Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Battlestar Galactica.

It was the first Tournament the Colonial fleet had held in nearly forty years. Many of the more junior officers did not even know the purpose of a Tournament, and many of the older officers only knew about them in theory.

Tournaments were held when a battlestar retired and its pilots needed to be redistributed. Most pilots were relocated to their new posts with little difficulty, either through recommendations or stellar service records. Those who remained—who either were not remarkable enough to merit immediate placement or, less frequently, who were troublesome enough that no one wanted them—participated in the Tournament. They faced off against the pilots of other battlestars while the various commanders looked on. The commanders in turn placed bids on the pilots who caught their eye.

Forty years ago the Battlestar Torrentia had retired following the end of the Cylon wars. And now, in a month, the Battlestar Galactica was set to retire. The commanders of battlestars throughout the Twelve Colonies had come to come to volunteer their viper pilots to participate in the tournament and to take their pick of the twenty from the Galactica who were up for auction.

Admiral Helena Cain of the Battlestar Pegasus shifted stiffly in her seat next to Admiral Nagala. She and the other commanders sat in order of rank on the small viewing platform that had been erected near the tournament field. Each held in their laps a small display pad digitally portraying the scene playing out in front of them. The purpose of the pads was to associate each ship with a number--the Tournament was done anonymously—so the commanders could keep track of their favorites. Cain hated to sit still for any long periods of time—would have spent her entire life standing, if she could. She also hated these kinds of events. She had a good, well-disciplined crew as it was and saw no need to add any of the Galactica's poor excuses for pilots to her rosters.

The Galactica's older model of vipers faced off against the gleaming flock of vipers from the other battlestars. The newer vipers were in a typical formation, while the Galactica's ships were scattered in a formation that was definitely not standard. Cain stared critically at the formation. There was something about it that struck her as odd, but she couldn't quite place it.

"I've never seen a more ragtag group," Commander Franco, one of the most junior commanders, remarked, just loudly enough that everyone on the platform could hear.

For reasons she could not explain, Cain bristled on the Galactica pilots' behalf. "I don't care how they look, as long as they can fly," she said icily.

She felt the surprised look Nagala shot her way but did not acknowledge it. The Pegasus was the newest battlestar in the fleet, the height of Colonial technology and aesthetics. They thought that she would be as disdainful of the vipers' appearance as they were. She did not like it when people thought she was predictable.

A single piercing blast of a horn signaled the beginning of the Tournament, and in the time it took Cain to blink the Galactica vipers surged forward with more speed than she would have thought possible, taking out a good number of their cocky opponents in the first burst.

"Gods," someone said behind her, and then typing began all around as the commanders began to take note of the different pilots' skills.

Cain did not need to take notes. In that initial surge she had realized what it was that initially caught her eye about the Galactica pilots' formation: although it was scattered and almost haphazard, it was all focused around one central pilot. That pilot, number 20, was at the heart of the fray, taking out opposing pilots with grace and speed while the other Galactica pilots efficiently dispatched pilots from the fringes, working their way inward toward 20.

Cain did not need to take notes, because there was only one pilot she was interested in, and she was going to get that pilot, whatever it took.

20 danced through the air, lethal with every shot. One of his engines had been blown out but he still flew better than any of the others out there, spinning, flipping, diving under and around his opponents and, Cain suspected, directing the rest of his squadron as he flew.

She was not the only one to take note of 20's skill. "Did you see that?" Admiral Lear gasped after a particularly skillful move.

"20 is mine," Cain said so quietly that none but Nagala heard her vow.

The Tournament was over almost as soon as it had begun. Although a number of the Galactica ships had been "destroyed" they had managed to wipe out the entire flock of opposing vipers. The Galactica vipers that were still maneuverable reassembled into formation, this time aligning in a perfect Colonial salute formation facing the commanders in their viewing platform. The front ship, 20 of course, dipped in an unmistakable bow before executing a perfect 180 and flying straight through the formation, which turned more sedately to follow the lead pilot back to the Galactica.

Lear laughed shakily. "I think my pilots need to run a few more practice drills," she said.

"Yours are not the only ones," Cain said darkly. She and her CAG Stinger clearly needed to have a little chat.

"Don't take it too hard," Nagala said, standing to face the others. "I think it's safe to say we saw something pretty special today."

"I'm glad you appreciated it, sir," a gravelly voice spoke from the entranceway, and all the commanders whirled to see Adama leaning against the door frame and smiling that craggy grin of his.

"Commander Adama," Nagala said. Cain, who had known Nagala for most of her life, could tell by the tension in his stance that he was as surprised as the rest of them by Adama's presence. "I…that is, we thought you were on the Galactica commanding your pilots."

Adama's grin widened, if that was possible. Smug bastard. "It was made very clear to me that my presence there was not necessary," he said. "My pilots advised me to sit back and enjoy the show."

"What can you tell us about number 20, Adama?" Franco demanded.

Part of Cain wanted to object at the clear violation of Tournament rules. Nothing was to be known about the pilots other than what could be observed. The rest of Cain wanted to know everything she could about that particular pilot.

"You know I can't tell you anything," Adama said with an air of finality that made it clear he would not budge.

"Sometimes I hate that man," Nagala muttered under his breath. Cain agreed with the sentiment. "All right," he said more loudly. "It's time to place your bids, commanders. You know the drill. Bidding will begin with the least senior commanders. Who would like to bid on pilot number one?"

The bidding went fairly swiftly. Although each pilot did find a new home, it was clear that everyone was waiting for the real gem of the group.

At last it was time to bid on 20. The junior commanders were generous with their bids, each beating the bid of the commander before them, knowing that it was unlikely even then that they could win the pilot. Admiral Lear came before Cain and offered, "Status as lead pilot, with serious consideration for promotion in a year."

All eyes turned to Cain next, who took a deep breath as she stood. Her spine was straight and she stared straight into Adama's eyes as she said, "Immediate promotion to Captain. Position as lead pilot and assistant CAG. If he continues to prove his worth, promotion to CAG within the year. After one year aboard the Pegasus, one year's paid leave to attend War College, with the potential for additional promotion if he does well there."

Silence rang in the small room.

Admiral Nagala, the only officer senior to Cain, raised an eyebrow. "I won't even try to beat that," he said. "Congratulations, Admiral."

"Yes, congratulations," Adama said, walking down the stairs to shake Cain's hand. He stared into her eyes, and she felt incredibly judged by the junior officer. "Starbuck's an incredible pilot, and if you do right by _her_ she'll be a great officer."

Relieved laughter rippled through the room, and Cain felt abruptly as if the joke was on her. "Starbuck?" she repeated the unfamiliar call sign.

Adama smiled, a kind of strained smile. "Lieutenant Thrace has a history of disciplinary problems, but don't let that fool you. She's the best pilot in the fleet." Coming from the war hero, a man who had been a star viper pilot before Cain was even born, that was saying something.

The room held an expectant silence again. Cain frowned. "I'm not retracting my bid," she said, meeting Adama's eyes of her own accord this time.

He nodded once. "I'll send my pilots to your ships to coordinate their transfers," he announced to the room at large. "Thank you for your consideration." He sketched a salute before marching out.

"Did I just dig my own grave?" Cain asked Nagala out of the corner of her mouth. She wondered how she could have missed hearing about the infamous Starbuck's exploits, if the pilot was really so well known.

Nagala patted her arm gently, in a fatherly way she did not permit from anyone but him. "It'll be fine," he said. "Your brig needed some livening up anyway."

After returning to the Pegasus Cain immediately requisitioned Starbuck's file. It was thicker than most, both because of the large number of disciplinary infractions and because her medical file was sizeable. The injuries outlined there, most of them dating back to the pilot's childhood, were particularly disturbing. The thought of anyone hurting a child in such a way was infuriating.

She was interested to see that Commander Adama himself had written the request for Starbuck's transfer to the Galactica from her former position as flight instructor almost two years ago. Much as he had done in person, in his reports he praised Starbuck's talent and loyalty but stressed that she had a quick temper and virtually nonexistent self restraint. Cain read between the lines and understood that Adama was very fond of Starbuck, almost in a fatherly manner. Their relationship in some ways reminded Cain of her own with Admiral Nagala.

A knock sounded on her door nearly an hour later and Cain folded her hands behind her back as she called, "Come in."

The young woman who entered was everything Cain expected. Not too tall, well-muscled. Hair that looked like it had been cut with a lawnmower. A chin that tilted further upward than it had a right to go and eyes that flashed defiance. Cain felt a thrill of excitement run through her at the thought of conquering that defiance, of molding this fiery officer to her own use. Starbuck executed a perfect salute, standing at stiff attention.

"At ease," Cain said, watching as the girl relaxed infinitesimally. "I trust that you have read and understood the details of my bid," she went on, coming to stand directly in front of the shorter woman.

"Yes sir," Starbuck said.

"Do you accept?" Cain knew that she would.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Starbuck asked in lieu of a direct reply.

Starbuck's file warned that this might be a dangerous thing to allow. "Go ahead," Cain said.

Starbuck frowned. "Why do you want me, sir?" she asked. "I understand why you want me as a pilot--" there was the expected arrogance  
\--but I've never taken a leadership position in the field. Why promote me, or offer to send me to War College?"

"I saw you take a leadership position earlier today," Cain said. "Don't get me wrong, Starbuck, there are a lot of things I don't like about you and I don't even know you yet. You're insubordinate and have no control on your temper. You drink too much and are one arrogant son of a bitch. For some reason, though, I have a lot of faith in you. I'd like to see where you could go with the right kind of training and responsibility."

Starbuck chewed her lip thoughtfully. "When would the transfer take place, sir?"

Cain raised an eyebrow. "Do you have somewhere else you need to be, Lieutenant?" she asked.

A muscle leapt in Starbuck's jaw. "I want to attend the Galactica's decommissioning ceremony," she said.

"And do you always get what you want?" Cain asked.

Starbuck did not stop to think about how to respond, did not seem to care what Cain thought about her. "Most of the time, sir," she said.

Cain smiled a predatory smile. "Good. So do I."

The ceremony was not for another month. Cain did not want to wait that long. She also wanted to sever any ties the young officer might have to that bucket of bolts—and its infuriating commander—as soon as possible.

"The transfer will take effect immediately," she decided. "The Pegasus will be on maneuvers during Galactica's decommissioning; you will not be able to attend."

Starbuck clenched her teeth. "Then thank you for the bid, sir," she gritted out, "but I am unfortunately unable to accept." She turned to go without being dismissed. Cain decided to let that disrespect slide for the moment.

"Do you think Adama would want you to sacrifice this kind of opportunity?" she called out. Starbuck stiffened, stopped. Cain stepped closer to her, almost touching. She could see the fine trembling in the other woman's back. "Turning down my offer would be a poor repayment for all that the Old Man has done for you, wouldn't it?"

Starbuck did not respond, but turned slowly to face her, fury dancing in her eyes. Cain suspected that if she had been anyone else the young pilot would hit her with little hesitation.

Cain opened her fist, held up the captain's pins she had been clenching since before Starbuck entered the room. She took Starbuck's hand and squeezed her wrist to force her palm open, placed the pins onto her palm one by one. Then she closed the other woman's fist with a deceptively gentle push.

"Take these and think it over," she said. "If you still decide to reject my bid, send them back—I won't want to see your cowardly face. Otherwise I expect to see you on board at 8 a.m. sharp in two days with those pins on your lapels."

"Yes sir," Starbuck said. "Permission to be excused, sir?"

"Granted," Cain said, and watched the young officer leave the room.

Starbuck would be back, she knew. Adama would see to that. All she had to do was wait.

And she was right.

_***_

_One year later_

Commander William Adama sighed tiredly and removed his glasses, rubbing fruitlessly at his eyes. He always felt his age now, some days more than others. This was one of those days. The president, Laura Roslin, was not doing well. Doc Cottle gave her a month at the outside to live. Fleet morale was low despite the successful creation of the Chief's new ship, the Blackbird. His son Lee had taken the ship for its first flight, but although he was a good pilot it was too much for him to handle outside of very basic flight maneuvers. The ship's stealth capacity would not do them much good if no one could fly it in combat situations.

Kara Thrace could have flown the ship. Not for the first time Adama tasted bitter regret at having convinced her to transfer to the Pegasus. If he hadn't, if she'd been at the decommissioning ceremony, she would still be alive. And how many other lives would she have saved in the time since then? Would they still have lost half of their civilian fleet in those first days of flight from the cylons? How many pilots could she have trained? As it was, the Galactica had been perilously short on pilots ever since the accident that had killed off thirteen of his best. The two civilian flight instructors in the fleet had done their best to train new pilots, but flying a viper was a tricky business, quite unlike anything a civilian could imagine or handle.

"DRADIS reports contacts," Lt. Gaeta said quickly, interrupting Adama's dark thoughts. "Gods, it looks like a basestar."

Adama stared in dread at the DRADIS screen, watching as the large dot marked UNKNOWN moved closer to the Galactica, smaller dots—cylon raiders—swarming toward them.

There was something familiar about the formation the raiders took.

"Bringing the heavy artillery to bear," Gaeta said in response to an order from Colonel Saul Tigh. "Spooling the FTL drive."

"No, hold," Adama ordered, still studying the formation. He had seen it once before, at the Tournament a year ago.

"Sir?" Gaeta asked, eyes darting in confusion.

"Open a ship to ship line," Adama commanded, listening intently as Dee did so. He picked up the command handset. "This is Commander Adama of the Battlestar Galactica," he announced. "Identify yourself or be fired upon."

There was a short pause before a vaguely familiar voice spoke over the speakers. "Adama? Is that you? This is Admiral Cain, commander of the Pegasus. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

Adama felt a smile split his face for the first time in a very, very long time. "Admiral," he said warmly, "I know exactly how you feel."

An hour later found Adama and most of his crew standing on the deck of the Galactica as a raptor landed. Adama felt the urge to fiddle with his uniform but then Laura Roslin took his hand in hers and that was eminently better.

The raptor door swung ponderously to the ground and an aide stepped out. Then Admiral Helena Cain's face appeared—and who would ever have thought he'd be happy to see that battle axe? She stepped down the stairs quickly. A man with colonel's stripes followed her. And then…Adama felt his heart stutter in his chest. From the corner of his eye he saw Lee stiffen as well.

"Bill?" Laura asked quietly, concerned by his obvious shock.

He didn't respond though, just stared at the apparition that had appeared, her face a little thinner, a little older, her uniform graced with the pins of a major, stared and took an unconscious step forward.

Kara smiled at him, a wide, goofy smile, her eyes suspiciously bright as she stepped down to stand beside the colonel.

Adama coughed, blinked once, turned back to face Cain. "Admiral Cain," he said, not needing to speak loudly to be heard by everyone there. "Welcome aboard the Galactica."

"It's so good to see you, Commander," Cain said, and then everyone was cheering and breaking ranks and shortly after shaking hands with Cain Adama found himself face to face with the young woman who had almost become his daughter.

He pulled her into a tight hug before he could stop himself. "I missed you," he said in her ear.

She laughed, the ungraceful laugh for which she was famous. "I missed you too, Old Man," she said, squeezing him back.

Then he felt himself being pulled away by his son as Lee came to stand next to him to stare at their girl.

"Kara," Lee said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. "It's, uh, it's good to see you."

Kara grinned again. "Lee, you frakker," she said, and her own voice might have been rougher than usual, "I can't believe you're still alive! Haven't you done anything stupid and gotten yourself killed yet?"

Lee grinned, wiped away the tear at the corner of his eye. "Me?" he shot back. "How the hell did Cain manage to keep you alive this long without killing you—sir?" He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her new rank.

Kara punched him in the shoulder and he punched her back and then Adama couldn't tell which of them pulled the other into a hug first, because all of a sudden they were wrapped around each other laughing and crying.

"You were right about her," Cain said from behind him. Adama turned warily to face her. She looked almost fond as she observed his two children tussling. "Headstrong and insubordinate, yes, but if you have just a little faith in her she'll do amazing things for you."

"Thank you for looking out for her," Adama said awkwardly, feeling a warmth at his back as Laura joined him.

Cain's gaze shuttered. "Starbuck doesn't need anyone to look out for her, Commander. She's strong. Even if I had done anything special for her…I wouldn't have done it for you. She's my officer now, not yours. My 3IC. Remember that."

Adama looked back over his shoulder, taking in the ease of Kara's stance, her unforced smile, her crisp uniform and the pins he wished her could have put there, and felt a twisting in his gut. "How could I forget?" he replied.

Kara and Lee linked arms as Lee began to reintroduce her to the pilots, forgetting that she had flown with most of them long before he became Galactica's CAG. Adama was reminded once again of the many pilots they had lost since the worlds ended, among them some of his favorites. Helo, lost on Caprica, having traded his life for that spineless worm Baltar. Crashdown, on Kobol. Sharon, who was really a cylon and who had put two rounds in his chest while he smiled at her with fatherly pride.

Several hours later the crew of the Pegasus was ready to return to their ship. "Admiral, I'd appreciate it if you allowed Major Thrace to stay on Galactica for another few hours," Adama said. He would never admit to anyone how he chafed at having to ask her permission for anything. He had gotten so used to being in command. It would take some time to get used to taking orders again.

Cain stared at him for a long time and he almost thought that she was going to turn him down. Then she smirked, a smirk that said that she had nothing to fear, that he could not take Kara back from her, and said, "You can keep her all night. I'll expect her on duty tomorrow." Then she walked to Kara and put her hand on her shoulder in a manner that was completely proprietary. She whispered something in the pilot's ear, Kara nodding in response, then continued back to the raptor.

Adama walked up to Kara. "Let's go to my office," he said.

"Yes, sir," she said.

Once in his office Adama poured them each a glass of whiskey, the really nice stuff that he only broke out on very special occasions. He watched as she sipped at her drink, savoring the strong flavor.

"I'd like you to tell me about you time on Pegasus," Adama said carefully. "Nothing that you feel would violate Cain's trust, of course. Just, whatever you feel like saying." It was clear that Cain was genuinely fond of Kara and Kara fiercely attached to Cain—much as she had once been attached to Adama. However much he wanted to hear incriminating evidence against Cain, he did not want to destroy the relationship that Kara had built with the admiral by asking her to betray her trust. He cared too much about Kara to do that.

Kara stared into her glass, swirling the liquid inside. "Admiral Cain is…very strict. She's a good commander. She's kept her head as we've jumped from place to place hunting down cylons. Sometimes she makes…hard decisions. Decisions that I, well, haven't agreed with. Very vocally." She glanced up, inadvertently met his eyes, looked away. "Sometimes I think that's why the admiral likes me," she said. "I'm like her, in some ways, and in some ways I'm a complete opposite. I help her to…reign in her more…extreme impulses."

Adama tried to understand what Kara was too uncomfortable to say. "Such as?"

Kara sighed. "You'll have seen that Pegasus has a small civilian fleet attached to it. Admiral Cain…well, she wanted to strip the civilian ships down for parts. Leave them to fend for themselves. I, well, I told her not to."

Adama's mouth went dry. Strip the civilian fleet? Even on his very worst day he had never considered such a possibility. "Admiral Cain does not seem like the type who would do what her subordinate told her to do," he said after a long pause.

"Ah, well," Kara said nervously, "I might have threatened to quit if she did it, sir. And, um, join the civilian ships in fighting off the Pegasus' forces. And, well, take a few of her pilots with me."

Adama blinked. "How did Cain respond?"

Kara shrugged. "We kept the civilian fleet with us."

"There has to be more to it than that," Adama pushed. "Cain wouldn't have just accepted your threat."

"No, but it's not like I'm not used to being disciplined," Kara said with a weak smile.

"I can't imagine that she just sent you to the brig," he said. He'd had to do that to Kara often enough when she'd been under his command.

"Admiral Cain has found it fairly effective to employ corporal punishment since the worlds ended," Kara said after another reluctant pause. "Nothing too severe, just enough to convey her displeasure."

"What you're saying is that you saved hundreds, maybe thousands, of civilians, and Admiral Cain had you beaten for it," Adama said flatly, fury running through him.

To his surprise, his words seemed to irritate her. He had forgotten that Kara had become loyal to Cain. "It's not like that," she argued. "You've said yourself that sometimes we have to roll the hard six. Well, Admiral Cain does that all the time. Sometimes she goes too far and needs me to step in to stop her, and when that happens she does listen to me, but she can't just let me be insubordinate without any kind of punishment, and this is a solution that works for both of us."

The silence rang between them.

"I'm sorry," Adama said, though he bristled at Kara's acceptance of Cain's extreme discipline. "I've become very protective of our little fleet. If something happened to it, it would be a devastating blow to the human race."

Kara hugged her stomach. "I know that," she said. "That's why I protected the Pegasus' fleet. We've all done what we have to do."

Adama drained the last of his whiskey, set it lightly on the table. "I appreciate your honesty, Kara. You probably want to go catch up with the rest of the crew."

Kara set her own glass down. It was still mostly full. "Sir," she said, the note of dread in her voice impossible to miss, "there's something else I should tell you. I've been thinking about this for a long time, regretting not confessing the truth to you." Her voice trailed off.

Adama frowned. "What truth?"

She took a deep breath. "Zak failed basic flight," she said in a monotone.

"What?" he breathed.

"His technique was sloppy and he had no feel for flying. I should have flunked him, but I couldn't," she whispered.

He remembered the first time he met Kara Thrace. She had tried so hard then to pretend that she was unaffected by Zak's death, had tried to conceal their engagement thinking that it could only hurt Adama to know now that Zak was dead.

"Because you were engaged," he said now, feeling an icy hand clench around his heart. "You did it because you were engaged."

She was crying now. "I was so in love with him," she croaked. "I couldn't bear to be the one who broke his heart. I'm so sorry. So sorry."

Adama stared at her bowed head through a haze of red. "Go back to the Pegasus," he said in a voice he did not recognize as his own.

"Okay," she whispered, broken.

"And walk out of this office while you still can," he finished.

Kara did glance at him then, just once, her eyes full of such pain that she almost reached him through the anger that had engulfed him. Almost.

She closed her eyes, turned, and walked out, hands behind her head as if to shield herself from a blow.

When Saul Tigh entered a few minutes later he found Adama staring moodily into Starbuck's now empty glass.

"Starbuck sure looked unhappy," Saul remarked, seating himself across from his friend. "I thought for sure she'd stick around to rub her new rank in everyone's faces."

"Talk to Cain's XO, Saul," Adama said. "I want you to sound him out about their actions, Cain's and Major Thrace's."

Saul blinked. "Of course. I'd have thought that Starbuck would have told you anything you wanted to know."

Adama's lips tightened. "Starbuck's on the Pegasus now," he said firmly. "We need to remember that. She's not one of us."

"Far be it from me to defend Starbuck, but she's always loved you, Bill," Saul said slowly. "I think we can trust her at least to be honest with you."

The irony of the situation, of Saul defending Starbuck against Adama, was not lost on either man.

"I just want to hear everything from another source," Adama said in a heavy voice.

Saul watched him for a long moment. "I'll take care of it," he said.

Adama kept staring into the glass long after Saul had gone. He had never been one to find solace in the bottom of a bottle. Maybe now was the time to start.

The next day Kara came back to the Galactica to try flying the Blackbird. Of course, Kara being Kara, rather than go on the simple test flight that had been planned she took off toward the cylon ship the Pegasus had been stalking, took a series of pictures Cain would have given her right arm for, and returned back before Lee had finished his rant about her irresponsible and foolhardy stunts. As Adama later heard it from Saul Tigh she even had suggestions for how to make the Blackbird more usable for other pilots, although they would take some time to be put into effect.

She left the Galactica later that day without ever having to say a word to Adama.

***

Kara Thrace had no sooner landed on the deck of the Pegasus than a call was sent over the intercom requesting that she come to Admiral Cain's office. She walked there quickly and told herself that the stiffness in her spine came from good discipline rather than lingering pain from Adama's harsh dismissal. She deserved his response, after all, had even expected it. So why did it hurt so much?

Cain was standing when Kara entered her office. Kara wasn't sure that she could remember ever seeing Cain seated.

"Major Thrace," the admiral greeted curtly.

"Sir." There were few people Kara had ever called "sir" with any real respect. Cain was one. Adama was another.

"I'd like to ask your opinion about something," Cain said. "I believe that it would be a mistake to allow Lee Adama to continue serving under his father's command." Kara opened her mouth to reply but closed it again when Cain held up a finger. "Captain Adama has a history of insubordination—in more serious circumstances than your own—and it's clear that he and his father are very attached. I'm afraid that by allowing them to continue working together I might be endangering this fleet."

Kara waited a moment to make sure Cain was done. "With respect, sir, I don't think it's a problem at all. Lee—Captain Adama—is good at separating his personal life from his work. And the commander, well, he cares about most of his crew almost as if they're family. You can't take them all away. Also, if Lee comes to fly for Pegasus you'd need to find the Galactica a new CAG—I'm assuming you don't intend to trade me for Lee."

"Stinger could do it," Cain said.

Kara shook her head. "I've worked with Stinger, and I've worked with the Galactica pilots. They don't respond well to his kind of leadership." His leadership being heavy-handedness and excessive vitriol.

"So your suggestion is that I allow Lee Adama to continue serving as Galactica's CAG," Cain said.

"He would still be under my authority as well," Kara pointed out, "and I'm under your chain of command, not Commander Adama's. If I felt that he was acting inappropriately, I would step in. Assuming you trust me, of course."

Cain's response to that was a withering glare.

"Actually," Kara said blithely, "this leads into something I want to talk to you about. I've been planning our attack against the resurrection ship, and I would like Captain Adama to lead the strike."

Cain's surprise was obvious. "You always want to be the first into a fray," the admiral said. "What's changed?"

"I've been running possible scenarios," Kara explained. "The best approach is to use the Blackbird to take out the resurrection ship's FTL drive so it can't jump away, then send the vipers to destroy it. Lee's a good pilot, Admiral, but he's too by the book. I don't trust anyone but me to get the Blackbird in close enough without being detected. Stinger's not an option to lead the attack—no one will follow him and he doesn't have the adaptability Lee does in a fight."

Cain stared at her long and hard. "All right," she said at last. At Kara's smile, she warned, "Not because I trust him, but because I trust you."

Kara tried to hide how much that meant to her.

"Finally," Cain said, "I've been reading Commander Adama's logs and I've found something interesting. His president—this Laura Roslin—thinks that she has had visions from the gods. These visions have told her that if the Arrow of Apollo is retrieved from Caprica and taken to Kobol, it will show us the way to Earth."

Kara stood very still. "You don't believe in the gods," she said.

"No," Cain agreed. "But you do. And regardless of whether this arrow will help us find the mythical Thirteenth Colony, there might be people still on Earth. Now that we have Galactica's resources, when this is all over, I'd like you to plan a mission to Caprica to retrieve the arrow and see whether there is anyone there to rescue."

The viper pilot grinned. "That's the best idea I've heard all day, sir."

Cain waited until Kara was at the door to say, "Kara. I know that it hasn't come to this yet. And maybe it never will. But there may come a time when you have to chose between Adama and me." Kara turned slowly to face her, her face tight with dread. "I'm not asking you to choose now," Cain said. "I just want you to know…I know that you'll make the right choice."

Kara winced as if she had been struck. "Yes sir," she murmured before hurrying away.

By the day of the big mission Kara and Adama still had not spoken and tensions between the two ships were running high. The Pegasus pilots were skeptical about flying for Apollo although they trusted Starbuck's word that he would not lead them astray. Baltar had found out about the Pegasus' captive cylon and was screaming throughout the fleet about ill treatment although the cylon had been relatively unmolested (once again due to Kara's judicious intervention into Cain's harsh rule). Although Adama had made it clear that he would yield to Cain's command there were many in the Galactica fleet who felt that he should remain in charge. Even the civilian fleets were not melding well, having developed two dramatically different economies since the worlds ended and finding that their supply lines did not merge seamlessly.

Kara stood at the podium in front of a room filled to overflowing with Galactica and Pegasus pilots all in their flight suits.

"This is going to be a momentous day in fleet history," she announced, concealing her wince at her own words. She'd never been much of a public speaker. "I'm proud that we have two terrific fleets flying together today. We're going to kick cylon ass. I know some of you are nervous about flying with pilots from another ship. Don't be. I've flown with all of you at one point or another and can confidently say that there are no other pilots I'd rather fly with."

Wisely no one pointed out that there were no other pilots left.

"You're all going to be following Lee Adama on this mission," Kara said. "I know you'll listen to him as if he were me." This was said with a stern glare at the Pegasus pilots who were looking somewhat mutinous. She turned over the podium to Lee, striding swiftly down the aisle. She put her hand on the shoulders of several pilots as she walked past.

"Starbuck," Lee called. She turned to face him and the expectant faces of the pilots watching. His eyes were soft. "Good hunting."

"Good hunting," the pilots echoed.

Kara flashed them her pure Starbuck grin. "Back atcha," she said.

She flew herself to the Galactica in one of the spare raptors. The Blackbird was waiting for her when she landed and she performed a quick inspection to make sure everything was in order.

"It's been a while since I've had a pilot who insists on doing her own pre-check," the Chief said. "It's good to have you back with us, sir."

"Good to see you, too Chief," she said. "Let's get me in the air."

Minutes later the Blackbird was flying, headed inexorably toward the resurrection ship. "Starbuck, this is Galactica," Dee said. "Good hunting."

"Roger, Galactica," Kara said, wondering whether Adama had approved the message.

She went radio silent and turned off the lights in the cockpit as she slipped her way into cylon territory. Her own breathing was loud in her ears as she moved slowly through the arches of the resurrection ship, looking for the FTL drive. She tried not to look at the faces of the deactivated cylons lined up row by row in the ship. They weren't alive. If she did her job right and Lee didn't frak up leading the charge then these cylons would never be alive.

She found the FTL drive and took careful aim. A quick press of a button and it exploded in a brief flash of fire. Then cylon raiders were converging on her and she maneuvered as much as she could in the sluggish ship, spinning to meet her opponents. Her muscles burned with the effort and sweat trickled down her spine.

"Galactica, Starbuck! Where the frak are the vipers?" she screamed.

Galactica's reply was lost in the roaring in her ears as she faced off against an endless sea of raiders. She took out the five nearest to her and was almost away when a lucky shot by one of the other raiders took out two of her back engines. "Oh, frak me," Kara said as she felt herself begin to lost control. She pulled off a flip that should have been impossible in that ship, shooting once at the cylon that had got her. Then they were both falling, the viper pilot and the raider, pulled inexorably by the faint gravity of a nearby moon.

She had just enough presence of mind to eject before she lost consciousness.

***

Adama let out a sigh of relief as Dee pulled off her headset. "Apollo reports that the basestars and resurrection ship have been destroyed," she reported with a wide smile.

A cheer went through CIC.

"Any word on Starbuck?" Adama asked.

Dee spoke into the headset. "One of the Pegasus fighters reports that he saw the Blackbird go down," she said quietly.

"Did he see it explode?" Adama asked, his throat suddenly very dry. He remembered how he felt when he heard that Zak had died. It had felt a lot like he felt now.

"Negative, sir," she said. "He says it looks like she crashed on the moon."

"She could still be alive then," Adama said. "Prepare search and rescue. I want her found, now."

"Finding a pilot on that moon could be like finding a needle in a haystack," Saul murmured. He had been even more open with his disdainful comments since Adama's sudden change in attitude toward Starbuck.

Adama speared him with a glare. "I don't care how long it takes or how hard she is to find. We're going to find our missing pilot and bring her home."

Saul grimaced. "We'll do our best, but she only has about 48 hours of air. After that, it doesn't matter how hard we look."

"Commander, you have a call from Pegasus Actual," Dee said.

Adama took up the handset. "Adama," he said.

"Starbuck is on that moon," Cain said, her voice tense. "I've begun to coordinate search and rescue here—"

"We're coordinating it here too," he interrupted.

A pause.

"Perhaps we should work together," she said reluctantly.

"Agreed."

"Apollo will be in charge of the rescue mission. The full resources of the fleet will be at his disposal. Adama, I want her found."

The echo of his earlier words struck a chord with him. "We'll find her, admiral," he promised.

Only after they both hung up did it occur to him that neither had mentioned the success of the resurrection ship mission even once.

48 hours later the missing pilot had still not been found.

Admiral Cain sipped a cup of coffee as she stood in Galactica's CIC. Adama stood next to her. Their eyes were glued to the red counter that began to tell them just how long ago Starbuck had run out of air.

"She might have had an extra supply," Adama said.

"Of course she did," Cain agreed.

They took occasional breaks to Adama's office when they could not stand to be in CIC anymore. Then they would talk about Starbuck.

"Why do you like her?" Adama asked once.

Cain did not need to ask who he was talking about. "Because no matter how many times you knock her down, she comes up swinging," she said in a rare moment of openness. She hesitated. "Because she's like me, except she's better than I'll ever be."

Another time Adama told her the story of Starbuck's relationship with Zak, Zak's death, and Starbuck's consequent transfer to Galactica. He did not mention that Starbuck had passed Zak when she shouldn't have. He would never tell anyone about that.

The last time they retreated to his office Cain said, "If something happens to me, Starbuck is my replacement."

"What?" Adama asked.

"Starbuck doesn't have formal training, but she's got a mind for strategy and she's a good leader," Cain said. "Ever since she came on board I've been planning to make her into a commander some day. I've been working hard with her since the worlds ended. She'll be ready. If anything happens to me…promote her. Place her in charge of the Pegasus. I'll put it in my will to make it formal, but I wanted to tell you in person."

"She might be dead now," Adama said unwillingly.

"She isn't," Cain replied, gripping her glass so tightly that it cracked.

Twelve hours after Starbuck's air ran out the president had had enough. "Do you know how much fuel we have expended looking for one pilot?" she asked, eyes flashing with anger. "You two are the leaders of the Colonial fleet," she snarled, hands on her hips. "If you're willing to sacrifice everything—the future of the human race—for one pilot, then you're not worthy of your uniforms."

Cain smiled a smile that showed too many teeth. "All due respect, Madam President, but you can frak off," she said.

Adama sighed. He would have liked to respond as Cain had, but he couldn't. "Kara told me that she acted as a mitigating influence on you, Helena," he said.

The admiral stiffened. "Perhaps," she allowed.

"If she were here, she would be the one in our faces telling us not to do this," he said. "You know she would."

Cain glared. "And I'd send her to the brig just like I always do," she said.

Adama raised an eyebrow. "The brig?" The words were all the rebuke that was necessary.

She flushed at being caught in the lie. "Our system works for us, Adama," she said. "Kara's mother hurt her far worse. She can take anything I can dish out—and more."

"Surely you see that that can't continue," Adama said firmly. "I won't allow it."

"Do you think I like hurting her?" Cain demanded. "I hate it! But what can I do? I can't afford to have one of my officers in the brig. This way, at least she can stay on duty. Like I said. She can handle it."

"Although I don't know Major Thrace very well, I am fairly sure that if she were here she'd be right in your face right now, demanding that you call of the search," Roslin said, reminding them both of her presence.

"Two more hours," Cain bargained. "We can wait that long. The cylons won't be coming back here any time soon. If that's not all right with you…then go frak yourself."

Roslin smiled. "That sounds just fine," she said.

Two hours later Kara had not been found. Two hours and five minutes later both battlestars began spooling their FTL drives to make the jump away. Two hours and six minutes later a cylon raider appeared on DRADIS.

"DRADIS contact," Gaeta exclaimed. "The cylon will reach us before we can jump."

"Send the alert fighters," Adama and Cain ordered in unison.

Apollo and several of the Pegasus vipers flew out to meet the lone raider. Despite the good odds the cylon managed to evade the increasingly frustrated colonial pilots for several tense minutes. At last Apollo let out a soft curse as he lost sight of the raider. "Where the frak did it go?" he demanded.

"Uh, Galactica, this is Tophat," a Pegasus pilot said. "The raider is now flying formation above Apollo."

A moment later Apollo's amazed laughter rang out. "It's Starbuck!"

Adama snatched up the handset. "What?" he barked.

"The cylon is marked 'Starbuck' under the wings," Apollo said. "It's her!"

"Bring it in!" Adama shouted above the cheering in CIC. "If it does _anything_, shoot it!"

"Wilco, Galactica," Apollo said. "It's definitely her, though. This thing is flying with some real attitude. Where should we bring her in to land?"

Cain took the handset from Adama. "Bring her in to Galactica," she ordered. "We're both here." At least Starbuck did not have to choose between the two of them now.

Adama turned to Cain and pulled her into a hug. "We brought her home," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled back at him although the expression looked like it hurt her face.

"Congratulations," Roslin said. Cain shot her a disdainful glare.

A short while later Cain and Adama waited anxiously outside of Starbuck's alcove in the infirmary as Cottle completed his examination. When he stepped outside his face was set in its usual frown.

"Well, she banged up her knee pretty good," he said. "Anyone else, I'd say they'd never fly again. As it is, even with Starbuck it'll be a while before she's up in the air. You can go in and see her if you like, but she's pretty drugged up."

"You first," Adama said to Cain.

She graced him with another small smile before going inside.

"Good to see you awake, Major," Cain said, standing at Starbuck's bedside.

Starbuck smiled weakly. "Thanks for waiting for me," she said. "Sorry I took so long."

Cain shrugged. "I'm used to that kind of disrespect from you."

She took Starbuck's hand, gave her the small round pins she had been carrying for some time now. "Good flying today, Kara," she whispered. "I'm proud of you."

Kara bit her lip to keep from crying. "Thank you, sir."

"Now get some rest," Cain said. "I want my CAG back ASAP."

"Yes, sir," Kara said, pulling her hand back to rest it against her chest.

Cain emerged from the curtains. "She's all yours, Commander," she said. "I think we should wait till she's mobile again, then meet with the president and Major Thrace to arrange for…improved relations between the Pegasus and Galactica. We're all human. We're not the enemy—we should work together against the cylons. We should also begin organizing a mission to send some pilots back to Caprica to retrieve the Arrow of Apollo and see whether there are any people still alive."

Adama stared at her for a long moment. "I'd like that, Admiral," he said, watching as she strode briskly away.

He stepped slowly into Kara's alcove, wincing at the apprehensive expression on her face.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

She shrugged. "The doc, he can fix you up with some really good stuff," she joked, not meeting his eyes.

"Kara," he said. He bent to press a kiss to her forehead. "You did good."

She smiled tremulously, reading the forgiveness in his face, his voice. "Is there anything you need?" he asked gently.

"A stogie would be great," she said.

He laughed softly. "I had a feeling." He had been saving the cigar since the worlds ended. He had planned to smoke it at Zak's wedding. It seemed right to give it now to the young woman who was his daughter in everything but name.

"Get some sleep," he advised, watching as she leaned back in the bed, rolling the cigar between her fingers. "Tomorrow we're going to figure out how to bring peace to this frakked up fleet of ours."

She flashed him a grin. "Yes, sir," she said.

Adama left and closed the curtains behind him.

Kara lay in bed and clutched the stogie. In her other hand she played with the colonel's stripes that Cain had pressed into her hand—not a promotion quite yet, but a promise of one to come. She smiled faintly, and then she rolled over, careful not to bump her injured knee, and fell asleep.


End file.
